During my pregnancy, I immersed myself in research, devouring books and documentaries, trying to prepare for the monumental task of motherhood. I meticulously created lists, attended classes, and envisioned a natural birth, complete with immediate skin-to-skin contact and breastfeeding. However, one aspect I didn’t anticipate was the possibility of breastfeeding not going as planned.
My mother had three uncomplicated natural births and over a decade of seamless breastfeeding. She experienced no challenges, no high-tech pumps—just happy, plump babies. So, I was blindsided when my son, Jacob, refused to latch for nearly four hours post-delivery. My midwife reassured me that, due to some meconium suctioning, Jacob’s throat was irritated and he would soon latch on.
But he didn’t.
Jacob would latch sporadically but would quickly pull away, crying in frustration. Exhausted and anxious, I was at a loss. Somehow, his blood sugar remained stable, and he didn’t lose significant weight (he was over 10 pounds at birth), so we left the hospital with minimal guidance. Thus began two weeks filled with sleepless nights, anxiety, and mounting frustration.
Despite my efforts to breastfeed him every two hours, Jacob lost almost two pounds. My husband and I were shocked. After consulting three lactation specialists, we discovered that while Jacob was trying his hardest, he simply couldn’t transfer milk. There were no anatomical issues to address; his mouth and tongue were just poorly suited for breastfeeding. I was heartbroken and utterly fatigued.
In a bid to avoid nipple confusion, we embarked on a chaotic routine of pumping, feeding him through a tube alongside my nipple (a two-person endeavor requiring four hands and at least 30 minutes), supplementing with formula, and restarting the cycle every two hours, nonstop. I was determined to make breastfeeding work, and I nearly broke under the pressure.
Then, in a moment of desperation, I offered Jacob a bottle of freshly pumped milk. To my amazement, he eagerly drank it down and fell asleep peacefully. He began to regain weight, and I realized I had an alternative: exclusive pumping. Surprisingly, this new approach was far less chaotic than our previous routine.
I adapted to pumping six times a day, including a midnight session (which allowed me to sneak in some reading). I mastered the art of disinfecting bottles in two minutes at 4 a.m. and discovered the wonders of hands-free pumping bras, multitasking while driving, lactation cookies, and letting my partner handle night feedings. Soon, I could pump, feed Jacob, enjoy breakfast, and sip coffee all at once. It was exhausting yet immensely gratifying.
As my supply gradually increased, I reached a point where I was pumping 45 ounces daily. Jacob soon thrived, landing in the 99th percentile for height and weight. By the time he was 12 weeks old, I could eliminate my midnight pumping session, finally getting a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. My husband and I could enjoy date nights, and he generously allowed me to sleep in on weekends by taking on the night shifts.
I set small milestones for myself: three months, then six, then nine, and ultimately a year. Now, after nearly 16 months of pumping, I am weaning Jacob, and I can hardly believe how far we’ve come. He is joyful and healthy, having only experienced one 24-hour fever in his life, and remains delightfully plump. My husband has also enjoyed the invaluable opportunity to bond with Jacob through feeding, sharing bedtime routines five nights a week, and cherishing their weekend mornings together.
These 16 months have been a tumultuous yet fulfilling journey. I’ve come to understand that breastfeeding isn’t an all-or-nothing endeavor. Each drop of milk is a precious gift to my child, regardless of whether we breastfed for days or months. I’ve learned that pumping is a form of breastfeeding, and mothers who solely pump are some of the most resilient individuals I’ve ever met.
To all the pumping mothers: I see you. I see the struggle of assembling your pump parts in the early hours, washing yet another batch of bottles, and treating your sore, cracked nipples. I recognize those moments when you contemplate smashing your pump, only to connect for yet another session.
Take it one day at a time. You can do this. Whether you pump for a week or two years, you are pouring your heart and soul into providing the very best for your baby, and that effort is commendable.
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Summary
This account details the emotional and physical challenges of exclusive pumping over 16 months, emphasizing the resilience and determination of mothers navigating breastfeeding hurdles. It reflects on the importance of every drop of milk and recognizes that pumping is a valid form of breastfeeding. The journey illustrates the significant bonding experiences between parent and child, regardless of how feeding is achieved.
Keyphrase: Exclusive pumping journey
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